


Darling, What a Night

by BatmanWhoLaughss



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Assassin's Creed: Syndicate, Assassin's Creed: Syndicate Spoilers, Brother-Sister Relationships, Canon Continuation, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Post-Assassin's Creed: Syndicate, Pre-Jack the Ripper DLC, Reconciliation, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Love, Sibling Rivalry, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29742642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatmanWhoLaughss/pseuds/BatmanWhoLaughss
Summary: “Right. Come on,” he says, grabbing both of Evie’s hands and pulling her to her feet. “Let’s go.”“Where are we going?” Evie groans, as Jacob sets his top hat back on his head.“We, darling sister,” he says, smiling as he drapes his arm around her shoulders. “Are going to have a drink.”----Immediately after the final scene of the game, Jacob and Evie decide they deserve a night off.
Relationships: Evie Frye & Jacob Frye
Kudos: 9





	Darling, What a Night

“ _Jacob!_ ”

Evie can see him just ahead of her, running atop the roof along the train tracks. She can see the train, too, chugging along right in front of them, and she wills her legs to move just a little bit faster. The adrenaline is pumping through her veins, and she’s more determined than ever to win this race. He won the last three; it’s about time his streak is broken.

She’s gaining on him, slowly creeping up behind him until he’s just an arm’s length away from her.

“You are _not_ beating me again,” Evie huffs, feeling the burning in her lungs. 

Jacob glances back in surprise, just as she lunges, making a grab for his jacket. He sidesteps easily, but he lets out a strangled noise as he does, staring at her with wide eyes. He loses his balance for a moment and stumbles badly, but saves himself from tumbling over at the last moment. “That’s _cheating,_ ” he says incredulously, as he finds his footing again.

They’re neck and neck now, running side by side along the rooftop and rapidly approaching the end of the building. “You must be prepared for all possible contingencies, _brother_ ,” Evie says, laughing.

“Oh, really?” The train is just below. One jump and she’s in the clear, but Jacob suddenly surprises her by _shoving_ her backwards before she can make her move.

Ignoring her indignant grunt of surprise, he jumps off the roof, rolling once to break his fall before coming up smoothly on his feet. He waves at her from the train, that shit-eating grin of his spreading across his face. He even has the audacity to _bow_ , swinging that blasted top hat with a flourish. 

“Looks like I win again, Evie.”

Evie _hmphs_ in response as she leaps herself, landing _just as smoothly,_ thank you very much.

“Only because you _cheated.”_

“You cheated first!”

She elbows him in the ribs. “I nearly had you.”

“You say that every time.”

She meets his eyes, intending to respond with something snarky, but a moment later they both burst into identical loud peals of laughter, drowning out any planned retort. 

They must look quite a sight, the pair of them standing there cackling atop a train in the blazing London sun. In between their laughter, they both struggle to catch their breath after sprinting across half the city, but Evie barely registers the discomfort. It’s been _ages_ since they’ve had fun like this, and it’s suddenly like the past few months never happened, like they’ve gone back in time to when they first arrived in London.

As their laughter finally dies down, Jacob smiles at her, and instead of his normal cocky smirk, it’s something a bit more real. As if reading her mind, he hums. “Been a long time since we’ve raced like that.”

“It has,” Evie agrees, before smirking. “Seems I’m a bit out of practice.”

“I really have missed you, you know. I wasn’t just saying that,” Jacob says. His voice is softer than she expects; he sounds unexpectedly sincere. “I always hate when we fight.” One of his hands rubs at the back of his neck.

She can’t keep the surprise from showing on her face, because he’s never usually this open with her. “I’ve missed you too,” she says back, matching his sincerity. Because she _has, she really has._ She’s missed his lazy smile and his quick thinking when they’re in the field together. Hell, she’s even missed the way he takes the piss out of her every ten minutes. 

“Come on,” Evie says, after a moment. “We’d best get inside.”

They both hop down into the train with ease, and it’s only then that Evie remembers something important. “Starrick didn’t hurt you, did he? I never got the chance to ask.”

Jacob shrugs. “Couple scratches, but I’ll live. You?”

“The same. Not bad, all things considered. Henry seemed alright as well.”

“Ahh, _Henry,”_ Jacob says, flashing her that shit-eating grin again. 

Evie blushes. “Oh, don’t start.”

“All right,” Jacob says, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m happy for you.” Then he laughs. “But Ned owes me ten quid.”

“ _What—_ you’re _insufferable_.” She punches him in the shoulder, hard, her face flushing a deeper red. But she can’t find it in her to truly be mad, not when they’re finally getting back on track. “I hate you,” she mutters, still blushing.

“Nah. You don’t.”

With a sigh, Evie drops down into one of the train’s armchairs, and Jacob settles into the chair next to hers. They’re both silent for a moment, each taking deep breaths and resting sore muscles. 

“Do you think Father ever met the Queen?” She turns towards him in surprise. He’s staring absent-mindedly at the target board, twirling that blasted top hat between his hands. 

“Dunno,” Evie says, shrugging. “He had so many stories, but I don’t remember him ever mentioning anything about it.”

Jacob meets her eyes with a small smile. “Look at us now, eh? We finally managed something even Father never did.” 

Evie laughs. “I suppose we have. But we _did_ nearly destroy all of London in the process.” Jacob chuckles, before falling silent. 

“He’d be proud of you, too,” he says, and there’s that unexpectedly sincere tone again. Honesty is a rare quality in Jacob Frye, and she’s learned to treasure the moments where he lets it show. “I’m sorry I was such an arse to you.”

“And I’m sorry I was too narrow-minded to see what an arse _I_ was being.” Evie glances back towards the target board. “I can’t believe it’s over,” she mutters, after a few minutes. 

She sees Jacob nod slowly. A few more minutes pass, the both of them taking a moment to _finally_ breathe after everything that’s happened over the past few months. Goodness knows they’ve both earned it. Their targets are dead, the Templars are losing more and more of their grasp on London every day, and for the first time ever it feels like the bloody _mission_ isn’t weighing them down anymore. 

After a brief respite of blissful silence, Jacob stands up.

“Right. Come on,” he says, grabbing both of Evie’s hands and pulling her to her feet. “Let’s go.” 

“Where are we going?” Evie groans, as Jacob sets his top hat back on his head.

“ _We,_ darling sister,” he says, smiling as he drapes his arm around her shoulders. “Are going to have a drink.” 

Evie rolls her eyes. “I really don’t think-” she starts.

“Oh _come on,_ Evie!” He’s giving her that puppy dog look, the one that says _go along with my crazy plan and I’ll make it worth your while._ “We’ve earned a little celebration, haven’t we?”

His arm is still around her shoulders, and she can hear the train pulling into the station. _Perfect timing_ , she thinks ruefully, rolling her eyes again. “Starrick is gone. The Templars are running scared. _We were just knighted_ , for god’s sake. I think we deserve a night off, don’t you?” 

Evie sighs. As much as she wants to be the responsible one and say no, she can’t deny that the prospect of a drink and quality time together does sound fun. 

Still, she jabs his shoulder lightly. “I am _not_ dragging your arse off of a pub floor again.”

“It was only _twice._ ”

“ _Five_ times, Jacob. _Five!”_

“And what about the time I had to carry you halfway across Southwark after you drank that bottle of brandy?”

Their bickering voices continue as they make their way out of the train and into the throng of Londoners outside.

\-----

In hindsight, Evie can’t help but think this was a bad idea. 

She’s not usually a big drinker, preferring instead to unwind in other ways. But Jacob was insistent, and he actually wanted to be in the same room as her for longer than a few minutes at a time, so she couldn’t say no. 

They’re sitting in a pub that she’s forgotten the name of by now, both of them nursing a glass of whiskey. It’s not particularly good stuff, but Evie’s not complaining. She’s on her second drink, and she’s got a healthy buzz going by now. Jacob’s on his fourth, and he’s well on his way to being well and truly pissed, as she knew he would be. She can’t help but roll her eyes at him, as he yells something to a man across the bar. His speech is already starting to slur, and Evie laughs at the way his hat hangs askew on his head. Then she downs the rest of her glass in one go. 

“ _There_ you go, Evie!” Jacob claps her on the back. “I was worried you lost your stomach.” 

“Oh please,” Evie says, the alcohol still burning her throat. “You know I can keep up with you.” 

Jacob laughs much louder than he should. “Another round?” 

Evie knows they shouldn’t, but that glint in his eye and the buzz from the liquor is making her want to keep going. “Oh, all right.”

“ ‘Nother round Johnny boy!” he calls to the bartender, before turning back to her. 

“I still can’t believe we met the bloody _Queen of England!”_ He’s so drunk by now that he practically squeals, and Evie laughs again. “She was shorter than I expected.” 

“ _Jacob!”_

 _“_ What? I _know_ you were thinking it too.” 

Evie knows the alcohol is really starting to kick in when she laughs as hard as he does, the both of them cackling loudly and drawing the stares of the other patrons. 

“Look at you,” she says, shaking her head. “Sir Jacob Frye, you are well and truly _pissed._ ” The bartender chooses that moment to bring their next round, and Jacob makes an uncoordinated grab for his as the man tries and fails to hide his snort. 

“And _you_ , Dame Evie, let me talk you into coming out with me.” He knocks his drink back in one swig. “Gah,” he shudders. “That’s poison, that is.” 

Evie laughs again, and she can see the other bar patrons smirking at them. “Seems we’re attracting some attention.” She waves at one man, which should have tipped her off as to how well _she’s_ handling her liquor, but Jacob just laughs again. 

“Ah, let ‘em look. We jus’ saved their bloody city!” 

“Not so loud, you prat.” One of them needs to keep at least _some_ composure. 

Jacob frowns for a moment, staring at the empty glass in his hand like it’s holding some unfathomable secrets. His face is flushed bright red, and his eyes look slightly out of focus. 

“Right!” he suddenly yells, before jumping to his feet. He loses his balance, stumbling backwards before he gets his legs underneath him. Evie giggles, just as he reaches to pull her up after him. “Le’s do somethin’ _fun_.” 

“I thought that’s what we _were_ doing.” Evie says. She does _not_ stumble when she stands up, thank you. Only makes a slight misstep. 

“Naaaaaaaaah,” he says, dragging out the word and draping an arm around her shoulders yet again. Evie chuckles. Jacob always was a friendly drunk. “Drinkin’s _boring_ after a while. Need somethin’ to get the blood pumping.” 

Evie’s still sober enough to remember to drop some coins on the table as they make their way out of the pub. They’re arm in arm now, and Evie can’t help but feel like as much as she’s keeping him steady, he’s likely doing the same for her by now. The second and third drinks are starting to kick in. 

“So what’s your idea o’ fun, brother, hmm?” The part of her brain that’s still trying to be responsible recognizes the slurring of her own words.

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching as he glances around for something he deems appropriately exciting. “We…” He doesn’t seem to manage it for a few minutes, and Evie chuckles as he pouts like a small child. 

Then his gaze settles on two carriages parked across the street and he lights up like a kid on Christmas. “ _We_ ,” he says, grinning from ear to ear and pulling her across the street. “Are going to race those carriages.” 

“We are _not–”_ That’s a terrible idea, she should stop this right now, but her knees are wobbling more than they should be and the alcohol-induced haze is clouding her judgement. 

“Come on! No one in their right mind is about this time of night.” 

“Jacob Frye, we’re _not_ having a drag race in the middle of London.” She does her best to keep her face stern, but why is she making that face? Why is she laughing? Why is the prospect of racing through London sounding more and more fun?

“Afrai’ you’ll lose again?”

He’s climbing on a carriage before she can stop him, and after nearly falling over onto the pavement twice, he grabs the reins. 

“Jacob, _get back here–”_ But he doesn’t listen, instead snapping the reins with a loud _crack_ , and taking off the street. She can hear the echoes of his laughter trailing behind him. _That’s–_ He’s _insane,_ absolutely insane, especially when he’s drunk. She’s going to kill him for this. She should stop him, she should get him home before they both do something they’ll regret, but it’s like her brain is on autopilot and she finds herself laughing just as hard as he is and stumbling onto a carriage of her own. Why is she laughing? Why is her whole body thrumming with the peculiar kind of adrenaline that only the well and truly _pissed_ feel, and why does she find herself enthusiastically racing until their carriages are neck and neck?

They’re barreling through the London streets, twisting and turning with little regard for where they’re actually heading. The streets are starting to blur together, and Evie can’t help but remind herself that they really shouldn’t be driving after drinking like this. But she ignores the semi-rational part of herself, still laughing as she pulls her carriage alongside Jacob’s. 

She thinks they may have crossed into Whitechapel. Or maybe they’re in Southwark _–_ she can’t tell, really. She doesn’t see any people out and about, but a few other drivers are hurrying to get out of their way. They’re moving much too fast for having consumed this much alcohol, but she’s not about to give up and lose _another_ race.

“Jacob, where are we going?” 

“Wheree’er we want!” he says, smirking at her. But a moment later he lets out a yell that’s almost a squeak, swerving to avoid a carriage that made a quick turn around a corner and nearly knocking a wheel off her coach in the process.

Jacob’s laughing, but Evie frowns, glancing back at the driver, who is currently yelling obscenities at the both of them. Her hair is starting to come undone, the dark strands flying in her face and obscuring even more of her vision. 

“We should stop,” she says, being careful to pronounce the words clearly. Jacob’s head seems to clear enough to focus on her, and finally her words seem to break through his thick skull and he sighs. “All righ’, all right,” he grumbles. “Let’s head to King’s Cross. Think that’s where we left the train.” It’s entirely possible the train could be on the other side of London from King’s Cross, but she doesn’t know any better than he does.

They’re still moving fast, but they’ve at least slowed down slightly. The turns aren’t quite so scary now, and their carriages don’t nearly topple over at every slight movement. They’re still side by side, the race seemingly forgotten for a moment. 

They manage to swerve through the streets unscathed, right until they’re a block away from King’s Cross and one of Jacob’s horses gets spooked by a sudden, bright light. 

“Evie, look out!” Jacob tries to control his carriage but doesn’t quite manage it, instead slamming into the side of hers and spooking _her_ steeds in the process. They’re coming up on a sharp corner, and Evie nods at a clear spot of sidewalk. Thankfully, Jacob gets her meaning, and they both climb onto the roof of their respective coaches. Nodding once at each other, their heads momentarily clear (they are Assassins, after all). They jump towards the sidewalk, both of them rolling to break the fall as their stolen carriages careen off into the London night. 

Evie staggers to her feet, and she sees Jacob do the same, bracing one hand against the wall to steady himself. He meets her eyes, and suddenly they’re both laughing like mad again, cackling loudly in the cool London air. It’s the kind of manic laughter that only comes with alcohol, and by the end of it Evie is clutching her ribs as she tries to catch her breath again.

For a moment they just stand there, glancing around at the city’s streets as their laughter dies down. She’s reminded of a time when they were younger, when the two of them went out drinking together for the first time and accidentally started a fight in the middle of the pub they’d chosen. _At least no one got hurt this time,_ she thinks, even as she can still hear the horses whinnying down the street. She can’t help but wince when a loud _crash_ echoes through the night.

This is the kind of thing she’s missed. The times when things were simpler and there wasn’t so much weighing them down. She’s starting to think that maybe there will be a lot more of those times ahead. _Something to worry about after the inevitable hangover we’re both going to have_ , she thinks.

As if on cue, she meets Jacob’s eyes again, just before the both of them groan, lean over, and are promptly sick right there on the concrete. 


End file.
